When my grandfather died last year at the age of 94 our family was struck by
the number and nature of letters, cards and calls we received from people we
didn't really know. It wasn't that he had led a secret double life - it was
simply that during the many years he lived in rural Oxfordshire he developed
numerous casual acquaintances, and a fair proportion of these shop
assistants, neighbours, tradesmen, restaurateurs and the like felt compelled
to contact us. Their messages of condolence came accompanied with variations
on a consistent theme: “What a gentleman!”; “Always so unfailingly polite
and interested”; “Such a lovely, gentle man”; “A true gent!” I relate this
not to be mawkish, proud though I am to come from such stock, but in an
attempt to raise two points. First, the act of being a gentleman transcends
conventionality and surely goes some way beyond basic good manners. My
grandfather was not only impeccably polite, he was genuinely interested in
others, whatever their place in society, and frequently made people feel
quite special through his attention.
The second issue is whether the gentleman in 21st-century Britain is a dying
breed, literally and figuratively. If so, is that because the very notion is
anachronistic, a product of a bygone age that has no great relevance in
today's society? As a counterpoint to rumours of the death of the gent,
Dunhill, the men's outfitter, has commissioned a report that aims to
identify and define the new British gentleman (NBG). It gathers an eclectic
bunch of successful types, including the chef Fergus Henderson, the magazine
publisher Nicholas Coleridge, the fashion stylist Charlotte Stockdale and
Ben Elliot, the co-founder of Quintessentially, a 24-hour concierge service,
and asks them to pin down how this NBG behaves, what he wears and how he
lives.
“Being a true gentleman means being gallant and generous. One can be gentle
but remain firm, determined and retain a great sense of humour,” says
Dunhill's director of brand imagery, Yann Debelle de Montby. The report
concludes that some fundamental qualities remain at the core: good manners,
charm and dignity. It also suggests that the NBG conducts himself in an
accomplished but modest manner and that “stealth wealth and less conspicuous
consumption are the order of the day”.
Old-fashioned good manners - holding open doors, standing up when someone
enters the room, asking questions of others rather than talking about
yourself, ensuring that you compliment your host generously and so on - are
an entry point for respectful behaviour. But it's more about your overall
manner towards others: how one conducts oneself not only socially, but also
in business, in relationships and in public.
As described, the NBG may have unimpeachable credentials, but whether they are
prevalent and even encouraged in the real world is more open to question.
Take the political arena, for example. While politics has at times been
considered a noble pursuit - a duty, even - that idea has long been
superseded by moral flexibility, naked ambition, manipulation and the
pursuit of power. Being a gentleman in politics will get you nowhere bar a
long career warming the backbenches.
Privilege and private education do not automatically confer gentlemanly
status. The revival of “posh” in politics - Eton, Oxford and Bullingdon Club
buddies David Cameron and Boris Johnson are now the two most powerful
figures outside the beleaguered Government - shows no signs of bringing with
it a return to integrity, dignity and scrupulous behaviour. Given the Tory
leader's “flexible” approach to policy and the Mayor of London's dubious
dalliances and noted lack of diplomacy, one could argue quite the opposite.
Traditional class distinctions, increasingly blurred and confused as they are
in contemporary Britain, now carry little weight in dictating an
individual's approach. In a social context, some posh “chaps” who appear to
be the ultimate gentlemen can be the most dismissive, arrogant and shallow
of all, more concerned with upbringing and appearances than substance and
true character.
Equally, wannabe gentlemen from more ordinary backgrounds who adopt the overt
trappings of the old world - the smart suits, the cigars, the clubs - can
simply be dressing up in the appropriate costumes and putting on a
performance. It's not that acquiring a taste for these things is wrong, only
that it must be backed by deeper values of integrity, discretion and enough
innate confidence not to have to shout about it.
“It is ungentlemanly to even refer to oneself as one [a gentleman],” says
Fergus Henderson, the chef-patron at St John in Spitalfields, London. “It is
the sort of thing that should remain unspoken.” Many people still respond to
well-spoken vowels and certain old-world manners as if it reflects inner
qualities, thereby allowing the owner to get away with more (Johnson's
recent election perhaps being the manifestation of that on a grand scale).
It's also evident in commentators' attitude to Raef Bjayou, the coiffured
dandy from the current series of The Apprentice. On the basis of one brief
intervention in defence of a bullied female colleague, a rarefied air and
upright bearing, he is being hailed as something of a posh pin-up and
potential series winner.
But in my eyes Raef is a parody of a gentleman - a concoction of
pocket-handkerchiefs and elocution that will crack under serious scrutiny.
Perhaps I'm wrong and he'll prove the real deal. But if so, I doubt that
he'll make it much farther in the competition, because the format is
structured to discourage self-effacement, mutual respect, honesty and
teamwork. It's fundamentally ungentlemanly. As Coleridge points out:
“Nothing is more unattractive than one person grabbing all the kudos.” For
sure, The Apprentice is designed primarily to entertain (a job it does
brilliantly). But if it reflects the real business world at all, it
reinforces the notion that respectful, dignified behaviour is losing out to
cut-throat capitalism.
Trevor Pickett, the owner of the eponymous luxury leather goods brand Pickett,
aims to do business “the right way”, but fears that he's in a minority. “The
idea of being a gentleman in business is definitely dying out,” he says.
“But when your back's against the wall in any industry you fall back on the
relationships that you have built with people. You can't do that if you've
just screwed them on price, for example. That's just not the way we do
things.”
The NBG no longer has to dress in a prescribed uniform - the codes that used
to help to define “one of us” are less formal and less formalised than in
previous incarnations. Similarly, the private members' clubs to which this
male elite might belong have changed from The Garrick and White's, with
their deep armchairs and fine claret, to the networking hubs and spasof
Cowley Manor and Soho House New York, as well, perhaps, as the new Homes of
Alfred Dunhill establishments.
“Being a gentleman is an understated and very English quality that is not as
prevalent as it used to be or should be,” says Patrick Grant, the
36-year-old director of Savile Row tailor Norton & Sons and a definitive
modern gentleman himself. With its bespoke-only service and suits costing
from £3,000 upwards, Norton & Sons attracts a high-achieving and
discerning clientele. But are they true gents?
“Very much so,” he says. “There are a few ‘barkers', as we call them - people
who snap instructions at you. But 95 per cent of our clients are genuinely
charming and astonishingly well-mannered gentlemen. They are not necessarily
all from upper-class backgrounds, but they are all successful - and they're
the sort of people who take the time and trouble to thank you for your time
and trouble. That sort of approach counts for a lot in my book.” So there is
hope yet that the gentleman may survive, and even thrive. But he's not as
easy to spot as he once was, because outward signs are no longer such a
reliable indicator.
However, the next generation of widely respected gentlemen in Britain is likely
to combine conventional success with 21st-century concerns such as hands-on
parenthood, ecology, community work and social reform - whether on a local
or global scale. As David de Rothschild, the 29-year-old ecology campaigner
and adventurer, says: “Respect for each other goes hand in hand with respect
for the planet we have inherited.” He and his peer group can finally move
beyond the Thatcherite admiration for ruthlessness in business and
elbows-out upward social mobility. They may also come to reclaim the notion
of “respect” from its bastardised street use, where it is so frequently used
as a tool for aggression.
“How as a society we have got to a point where it's OK to be surly and rude, I
don't know,” says Grant. “But I think people are now questioning general
behaviour towards each other, so there's a chance that good behaviour -
being a gentleman, if you like - will make a comeback.” And so say all of us
...
How to be a (modern) gentleman
1. Some things don't change: say please and thank you and ask questions about
other people rather than talk about yourself.
2. Be punctual. Tardiness does not make you look important, it turns you into
an arrogant incompetent who thinks that his time is more important than
other people's.
3. The modern gentleman cares about the planet. Be environmentally aware (but
not obnoxious about it).
4. Open doors for people and stand up when they enter a room, but do this for
men as well as women. The modern gentleman doesn't treat women like
porcelain.
5. Be modest. Bragging is distinctly ungentlemanly.
6. Be a good father. Nothing is less charming than a man who leaves childcare
to women.
7. Be honest about wherever you have come from in life. Pretension is
spineless.
8. Flirt - with everyone. Good flirting is a form of politeness. Pay
compliments and put your companion at ease.
9. Do not phone/text/check your BlackBerry incessantly.
10. Dress tidily. Whatever style you are going for, scruffiness just isn't in.
